


Priorities

by Just_Another_Day



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Animal Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, M/M, Natural Disasters, Nightmares, Post-Canon, References to Potential Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-16
Updated: 2019-06-16
Packaged: 2020-05-12 22:43:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19238584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Just_Another_Day/pseuds/Just_Another_Day
Summary: The flood couldn't have been predicted, but Ancel's reaction could, if Berenger weren't distracted by other things.





	Priorities

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 'Drowning' square of Bad Things Happen Bingo. Please mind the tags, as they contain a few content warnings that might be important for some people to avoid.

Berenger had always enjoyed watching the slow but obvious change of the seasons in Varenne as winter came to its end. Berenger appreciated the reliability of it, like clockwork, every year. The animals perked up as progressively warmer breezes started sweeping through the valley. The morning frosts gradually faded away and the ground underneath softened. The first plant shoots pushed their way back up through the surface. It was a subtle build-up at first before the eruption of greenery. 

Berenger had unfortunately had to miss watching all of that happen last year, as by then they'd already had to travel south for King Laurent's coronation. So he'd been looking forward to getting back into the routine of it this year. 

But nothing about it was turning out to be routine after all. This year the weather had shifted far faster than Berenger had ever seen happen before. It had still been snowing heavily in the mountain range that marked the border with Vask earlier in the week. But today, just a few days later, they'd woken to find themselves unexpectedly sweltering under their thick blankets, with Ancel quick to complain that Berenger's body was a furnace (as if he hadn't been demanding to be allowed to take advantage of that same body heat all winter). The air had turned warm enough by the late morning that Ancel insisted on lazing half-naked on the chaise in their rooms. He probably would have gone so far as to drape himself out on the balcony, taking advantage of the breeze, if it hadn't been raining hard. 

Ancel seemed pleased by the sharp increase in temperature, though less so by the rain that came along with it. Unlike Berenger, he'd grown up much further south. Ancel had only experienced the colder winters of northern Vere for the first time the previous year. As well as Berenger personally thought it suited Ancel's temperament to have an excuse to curl up by the fireplace under seven layers of furs while servants brought him food and drink and took care of keeping the flames roaring, Ancel had made it clear how little he appreciated the experience. Not enough to break his contract with Berenger, but certainly enough to spend an entire month trying to convince Berenger that their presence was urgently required in Marlas, or in Sanpelier, or just about anywhere that would be warmer than his previous experience of a Varenne winter. 

Berenger, for his part, wasn't quite so enamoured of the change. Not when he was receiving sudden reports of the river breaking its banks, and the water levels creeping up by the hour. The snow had to be melting fast in this heat, Berenger thought. And any melted water that cascaded down this side of the mountain range had exactly one place to collect, right along with the rain that was still pounding down outside. 

The fort would hold easily against any rush of water, and would keep them well above any floodwaters as long as they cleared out the lower levels to be safe. And it was large enough to house most everyone in the valley, including those from the neighbouring village, even if a lot of them would probably have to sleep on the stone floor for a few days. So Berenger was quick to send out messengers to urge anyone in the area to retreat to the fort as soon as possible. Though he didn't even think the messengers had had time to make their rounds before four groups arrived at his fort in quick succession that afternoon, seeking shelter away from their already washed-out farmlands. 

Berenger was practically run off his feet with directing the servants in basically overhaul the entire interior of his home (and ignoring Ancel's gripes about the mess he was making of all the furniture and decorations that Ancel had forced him to buy over the last year). He'd also had to deal with receiving waves of frightened people who needed to be calmed and allocated to rooms well into the late evening. So he'd been busy enough that it didn't even occur to him that it wasn't only people who would need to flee to higher ground. Until, that was, the stablehands finally made their way up the main house. They looked harried, like making even the short trip from the stables to the fort had been an ordeal. 

"The horses," Berenger realised, already bordering on horrified. 

"We opened up all of the gates," Bayard, the stable master, tried to reassure him. "They have the chance to run for higher ground. That's the most we can do for them."

That was better than leaving them penned up and unable to do anything but wait for the inevitable, that was true. But even so, Berenger wasn't quite optimistic enough to think that none of those beautiful animals would be lost to the river's overflows. In particular, there were over a dozen mares who Berenger expected to foal in a month or two, whose speed and agility would be compromised.

Berenger couldn't send any of the men wading back out there to help the horses. They'd already done their duty, and he had no right to ask more of them. But Berenger couldn't help but think that he could manage to lead at least a few of the animals to safety himself. They wouldn't appreciate being enclosed inside the fort, in such an unfamiliar environment, and it wasn't like there was exactly much spare room to accommodate them in here anyway, but still, surely… 

"Don't you dare," Ancel warned him without Berenger even having to say anything. He knew Berenger too well by now, it seemed. "You're not going out there and drowning on account of a few beasts too stupid to save themselves."

"You can't help them now," Bayard agreed more gently (which was probably the only time that he and Ancel had ever felt similarly about a single thing). "The water level's coming up fast. If they haven't managed to run off, then they'll be panicking by now. Like that, they're more likely to rear up and crush you if you get close than they are to meekly follow you back here. And that's assuming you don't just lose your footing on your own in the rush of the water. It's not worth it."

Berenger was almost certain he could manage it. But he liked to think he wasn't a fool. Reckless at times, perhaps, especially when it was about something he was completely devoted to, but definitely not stupid. He understood that 'almost certain' wasn't the same thing as a guarantee. 

And besides, Ancel looked like he would smash something over Berenger's head to incapacitate him before he'd let Berenger run off. Or worse: like he would try to _follow him_ if Berenger managed to make it outside after all.

A risk to himself was one thing, but Berenger couldn't risk _that_. Never.

He nodded and put his efforts back into making sure his houseguests were cared for instead. If that was all he could do, then at least he would do it well.

It wasn't enough to fully distract him or to alleviate his guilt, though. 

Berenger woke, gasping, from a dream filled with the screams of desperate horses trying to keep their heads above the water once the fast-flowing river water knocked their legs out from under them. Ancel was awake as well. Even in the dark Berenger could make out that he was staring at Berenger with a peculiar expression. 

"You were making weird noises," Ancel said. He sounded disconcerted.

Berenger must have woken him. He hoped he hadn't been screaming himself.

"Sorry," Berenger said.

"That's not…" Ancel seemed to think better of whatever he'd been going to say. "Yeah, actually. So you should be. Don't do it again."

Berenger would have liked to have promised not to. But the dreams visited him again, several times over the four days it took for the floodwaters to recede enough for it to be safe to leave the walls of the fort.

The stablehands and several of the grounds servants went with Berenger to check the state of things. Some of the farmers ventured out as well, likely keen to gauge the damage to their own nearby stock and fields. That was all expected, if appreciated.

More surprising was the fact that Ancel insisted on coming as well. Berenger couldn't have said what motivated him, or what kind of help he thought he was going to be, but Ancel wouldn't be talked out of it even so. His only contribution seemed to be making faces with every step as his boots sunk into the swampy ground, and screwing up his nose at the dank smell, which was stronger than it had been inside with the stone walls to somewhat muffle it.

They didn't have to venture far to find the first of the horses. Berenger knelt down and ran his palm gently over the mare's neck just as he might have done after a ride. His hand came away caked thickly in the mud she was half-buried under. She had been glossy and well-tended less than a week ago. Not to mention alive. But she was no longer any of that.

Two more of the horses hadn't even seemed to make an effort to leave their stalls despite the stall doors gaping open. Berenger wondered if they'd realised what was coming before they drowned and just hadn't been able to do anything about it, or if it had been too fast. He hoped the latter. 

Most of the rest of the horses seemed to be long gone. Berenger would take some men to the lower slopes of the mountains to search for them in a day or two, once the ground had had a chance to dry out enough that they wouldn't be bound to slip and injure themselves on the incline. Until then, Berenger supposed that he could choose to believe that these were the only fatalities. But in reality, he imagined there would be at least a few other bodies to be found, and to be burned, the same way they would now have to dispose of these once-magnificent animals.

Berenger took a moment, standing over one of the bodies, to gather himself.

"They're just animals," said Ancel when Berenger had obviously been silent a little too long for Ancel's liking.

He didn't mean it cruelly, Berenger could tell that much; Ancel being intentionally cruel was an unmistakable phenomenon. That didn't lessen the way the words stabbed into him anyway. There was no 'just' about it, as far as he was concerned. Berenger loved animals more than he cared for most people. And they had deserved to have him look out for them better; for him not to be too distracted by other things to even spare them a thought until it had been too late.

Ancel continued, "It could have been a lot worse. It could have been _you_. It probably _would_ have been you, if you'd gone out there. So you can be sad they're dead or whatever, but don't you dare be sad that you didn't go out there to rescue them yourself and make me have to come out here and find you like that instead. Idiot."

Oh. 

Berenger imagined Ancel spending days of uncertainty, wondering why Berenger hadn't returned to the fort, but heavily suspecting the reason. Then he would have stumbled across Berenger out there in the fields the way they'd found that first horse. Berenger hadn't really thought through that part of the risk when he'd been considering going to aid them. He hadn't considered what it would do to Ancel if he misstepped.

Berenger drew Ancel against him, chest to chest, his hand tracing circles over Ancel's back. Ancel didn't bother trying to stubbornly fight against it the way he usually would have when Berenger was trying to soothe or placate him. Which, in combination with how Berenger suddenly felt, made Berenger question whether Ancel was really the only one who was supposed to be receiving comfort from this embrace. Berenger might have initiated it, technically, but it would be just like Ancel to have predicted that he would do so under these circumstances. And that he would _want_ to do so, just as importantly. Because more than anything, Berenger had to admit that he really wanted to lean against Ancel right then. 

No wonder Ancel had insisted on coming along. Berenger doubted he would ever admit to wanting to be there for Berenger like that, since Ancel didn't like it to be known that he wasn't entirely selfish, but Berenger was fairly certain that he knew the truth anyway.

"Can we go back now?" Ancel finally asked. "I'd even prefer to be in a fort full of peasants who smell like they haven't bathed in years over standing around here any longer."

It sounded much like any of Ancel's hundreds of other heavily-put-upon complaints on the surface, but Berenger understood that Ancel really had gone a long way out of his comfort area voluntarily for Berenger's benefit. And he really was thankful for that.

"Yes," Berenger agreed. "Let's go home."


End file.
